The Further Adventures of Captain Jack Harkness
by UnicornJones
Summary: Chapter 10: John sleeps well. Jack doesn't. On a related note, Ianto has his own ideas about what to do with Captain Hart. Post-Children of Earth.
1. Dreams

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Spoiler Warning:** _Children of Earth_ spoilers.

* * *

Captain Jack Harkness sat up with a start, eyes wide, mouth gasping for air like it always did when he jolted back to life.

Except this time, he wasn't dead. He was having a dream.

Or rather, he was reliving a memory in his sleep, not with the fuzzy surrealism of the unconscious mind, but with the stark, vivid terror of life itself. He had been reliving the same experience every time he fell asleep for weeks, or maybe months:

Thames House.

Floor Thirteen.

The ominous, gas-filled glass box.

The sinister, stomach-turning voice.

The fruitless, futile negotiations.

The noxious fumes filling the air.

The terrified screams of the doomed.

Ianto, stoic and uncomplaining, almost to the last.

Jack, trying to comfort him even as he himself succumbed to the invisible, deadly toxin.

Darkness.

For Ianto, eternal.

For Jack, all too brief.

Now, upon waking, the sick emptiness Jack felt was no less mind-numbing than it had been the first time, resurrecting in a blood-colored body bag, knowing whose body would be resting beside his and yet resisting the urge to look as if somehow, his denial would bring Ianto back to life.

A high-pitched chirp from the ship's control panel alerted Jack to the approaching planet. He rose from his bunk and returned to the helm, grateful for the momentary distraction. Sure enough, there it was: Earth.

Jack had long ago lost count of the number of strange, wonderful, terrifying, beautiful things he had seen during his many adventures, many of them impossible to comprehend or even describe. Yet there was something about that little blue orb that kept pulling him back with an almost magnetic force.

He cared about Earth, as much as he tried not to. More significantly, he cared about a specific place on Earth and specific people in that place, and wonders of the universe be damned, he was going to protect what he cared about.

At least until the things he cared about were gone. But he would find new attachments, new people to love and protect. Alice had been dead wrong when she said that a man who couldn't die had nothing to fear. Captain Jack Harkness was terrified of losing the people he loved, and he was doomed to live in constant fear as he watched them shrivel up and blow away in the wind or, as happened all too often, burn out in a sudden blaze far before their time.

Jack knew better than almost anyone that nothing was constant, and yet some things are.

"The world is always ending," Jack muttered, expertly guiding his ship into orbit just high enough to escape detection. "Right, Ianto?"

And then a voice he had never expected to hear for the rest of his everlasting life responded with a simple, "Yes, sir."

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry about the extreme angstiness. I just really had to get it out of my system. (Thanks, _CoE_.) More story, less angst to come. You know, if you want.


	2. Homecoming

Jack's heart stopped and he found himself gasping for breath again. He quickly spun around in his chair, fully expecting to see Ianto standing there, dressed in a sharp suit as always, with a hot cup of coffee to sooth Jack's ragged nerves. But the ship was empty, and silent except for the occasional beeping from the control panel.

A beeping that, Jack realized, suddenly sounded rather urgent. A glance at the panel confirmed that several of the ship's systems, including propulsion and life support, were simultaneously and inexplicably failing, and unless Jack acted quickly the consequences would be—well, not dire, but unpleasant, and he did like to avoid dying whenever possible.

It was not an entirely unexpected development. Truthfully, the ship was a rather old, rusty bucket of bolts, hardly fit for space travel, but Jack kept flying it anyway. It was, after all, a memento from a recent encounter with an exceptionally attractive and seductive alien species. They had heads like jellyfish, but the things they could do with those tentacles were shockingly and surprisingly pleasurable, even to Jack. He enjoyed his stay on their seemingly utopian planet for several weeks, but when the aliens turned out not to be too keen on letting him leave—ever—by sheer luck he found the barely space-worthy vessel and used it to make his getaway.

The ship had broken down several times since then, and Jack was beginning to suspect that it was held together by the sheer power of his will as much as it was by nuts and bolts. When his usual strategy of frantic button-pushing, console-pounding, and cursing failed to restore the failing systems, and with more and more flashing lights and warning klaxons going off all the time, Jack decided it was as good a time as any to abandon ship. He contemplated triggering the vessel's self-destruct mechanism but decided it was doing pretty well without any extra help, so he donned his greatcoat and pushed a button on his watch.

He experienced a vague tingling sensation as he dematerialized on the ship and reappeared on the streets of Cardiff, then realized it was only the rain, falling heavily from the slate gray sky. He just stood there for a moment, letting the drops pelt him and absorbing the sights, sounds, and smells that were all so familiar, so Earth-like, until the shouting and honking of angry motorists jolted him out of his revelry and alerted him to the fact that he was standing in the middle of the road.

Fortunately, Jack was already certain of his next move. With all the emotions and excitement of the past few hours, he knew one thing: He needed a drink.

* * *

The pub was crowded and noisy, full of laughing patrons unwinding after a hard day's work, but Jack didn't mind. In fact, he had chosen it for that exact reason—all the commotion made it easy for him to sit at the bar anonymously and nurse his drink.

But the same popularity that made the pub an attractive location for Jack now had also made it a regular haunt for the Torchwood team, and their ghosts seemed to fill the place now. He tried to remember the last time they had gone out as a group, but only came up with a series of fleeting images: Owen trying to attract the attention of a good-looking blond as Tosh looked on wistfully, Gwen rushing to the bathroom to take a call from Rhys and convince him that she was still working, Ianto looking suggestively at Jack and fingering his stopwatch impatiently.

"Another shot, please."

The pretty bartender obliged and Jack downed it immediately. Several shots later he began to feel the alcohol's effects as his eyelids became rather heavy and his senses dulled. When he heard someone call his name he was almost positive he was imagining things again, until he heard it repeated.

"Jack?"

There, looking confused but generally pleased to see him, was Rhys. "Bloody hell! Come to save the world again, have you?"

"Rhys?" was all Jack could reply, his conversation-making skills impeded by liquor. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm just having a drink with some of the guys from work. The question is, what are you doing here? Gwen and I thought you were gone for good."

"Gwen," Jack repeated. He was trying his best to keep up, but Rhys was talking so fast. "Is she here?"

"No it's a bit of a boys' night," Rhys explained. "She's back at the house with Tosh."

Now Jack was completely lost, his fuzzy mind unable to process Rhys' last statement. "But that's impossible. Tosh is dead. They're all dead. They're all…" He trailed off, collapsing into muffled sobs.

"Shit, you're pissed," Rhys realized, helping Jack down from his stool and guiding him toward the exit. "I don't suppose you've got a place to stay? Or a ride, for that matter?"

The combination of overwhelming grief and alcohol prevented Jack from providing any response other than to continue crying.

"Right," Rhys said in resignation. "Well, you'd better come with me then."

"Thank you," Jack said between sobs.

Rhys simply sighed.

"Gwen's going to love this."

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks so much to the two people who took the time to review, I really appreciate your feedback and will definitely take it into account as I plan future chapters. Any and all comments/questions/critiques/suggestions definitely would be helpful...


	3. Reunion

It was not, Jack reflected groggily, the first time he had woken up with no idea where he was and no memory of how he got there. And on the bright side, he had woken up in far worse places. For one thing, he seemed to still be on Earth. For another, he was inside a very cozy house, lying on a very cushy couch, covered with a very soft blanket.

It also was not the first time he had been forced to face a potential alien threat while dealing with a hangover. Fortunately, this alien life form looked to be fairly harmless compared to some of the others. It was a tiny humanoid with no visible tentacles or other appendages, although its large, wide eyes had the potential to harbor powerful telepathic abilities.

The creature had noticed that Jack was awake and was moving toward him unsteadily, so he sat up and raised his hands as a symbol of his good intentions.

"I mean you no harm," he assured it, trying not to wince as his own voice thundered in his ears.

At this point, the creature did something unexpected: it started giggling. The sudden commotion brought Rhys into the room, and Jack suddenly made sense of his surroundings as the events of the previous evening emerged from the hazy depths of his mind.

"Good morning to you, Jack," Rhys greeted him far too cheerfully before calling out to someone elsewhere in the house. "He's awake!"

The creature, which Jack now identified as a child, ran haphazardly toward Rhys, who lovingly scooped her into his arms. But before Jack could inquire about the girl's presumed kinship to Rhys, through the doorway walked Gwen. She simply stared at him for a moment and Jack said nothing, unsure of how she would react to him dropping in on her life so suddenly and unceremoniously. And if his splitting headache was any indication, he was certain he hadn't made a very good impression the night before.

At last, Gwen broke into a smile. "Hello, Jack," she greeted him warmly.

"Hello, Gwen," he replied with equal affection, standing up to embrace her tightly.

"I see you've already met little Toshiko," Gwen said after a moment, nodding toward the still-smiling girl in Rhys' arms. "Our daughter."

"She's beautiful," Jack said truthfully, thinking how fortunate it was that Tosh, with her wide blue eyes, thick black hair and cherubic smile, seemed to take after her mother. "How old is she?"

"She'll be three next month," Rhys chimed in.

"Three years," Jack repeated reflectively. "Has it really been that long?"

Gwen nodded. "Yes, yes it has."

"I missed you," Jack confessed.

Rhys rolled his eyes and sighed. "Here we go again."

"Rhys, why don't you take Tosh down to the park?" Gwen suggested. "Jack and I need to talk."

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry this was kind of a short little filler chapter, but I figured I might as well post what I had. To come: clearer signs of where this is all going, more emo!Jack. But I can (almost) guarantee: no more cheap alcohol jokes or children named after dead Torchies. Thanks a million to those who have reviewed. Please keep doing it!


	4. Teamwork

"Coffee, Jack?" Gwen offered.

"Sure," he said, mostly out of politeness, as he followed her into the cheerful, brightly lit kitchen.

She poured them each a cup and sat down at the table. Jack sat too, somewhat reluctantly, knowing by the look in Gwen's eye that she meant to have a Serious Talk rather than a simple friendly chat.

"We thought you were gone forever," she said after a moment. "I thought you were gone forever."

"Yeah, well," Jack hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "Surprise!"

"This isn't a joke, Jack," Gwen scolded him as only she could. "It's not a bloody game. I thought I'd never see you again. I was devastated for months. Can you understand that?"

Jack sipped his coffee and found it surprisingly good. Not the best he'd ever had, but that was to be expected. After all, he had tasted coffee from across the universe and only ever met one person who could brew a perfect cup.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I think I understand."

"Oh God, Jack, I'm sorry," Gwen said quickly, realizing how insensitive she must have seemed to his staggering losses. "I didn't mean…" She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "I realize you've lost many more people than I have. And I know the pain must be almost unbearable, because I've felt it too. I have."

"Gwen—" Jack interjected, intending to offer some words of comfort, but she cut him off.

"But I was finally starting to heal, Jack. After months, after years, I was finally getting to the point where I didn't feel that horrible, gnawing pain in my stomach every minute of every day, the terrible ache that came from knowing I would never see you or Ianto or Tosh or Owen, any of you, ever again. And I was finally staring to hope that someday I might be able to live with that," Gwen's voice started to waver as tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, but she quickly regained her composure. "But now you're back, and you'd better have a bloody good reason."

"I came back for the same reason I always come back," Jack told her. "To save the world. That, and I was thinking about going camping."

The joke was a risk after Gwen had just told him off for making light of the situation, but this time it paid off and cut through the tension like a laser scalpel. They both laughed, standing up to share a tight hug that was interrupted by an overt cough from the kitchen doorway.

"Sorry to interrupt," Rhys said, in a way that made it obvious just how not sorry he was, "but—"

"There's an alien in the park!" Tosh burst out excitedly.

"Right," Rhys confirmed, looking down at his tiny daughter in amusement. "I don't suppose you lot would want to…"

But Jack was out the front door before Rhys could finish his sentence, with Gwen following closely behind. Rhys sighed and picked up Tosh. "Well," he muttered, half to his daughter, half to himself, "I don't suppose we'll ever see her again, will we?"

* * *

Jack let Gwen lead the way to the park, although he was fairly certain he could have found it by following the sound of screaming children.

"What are we going to do once we get there?" Gwen asked breathlessly as they sprinted the two blocks to the park. "We haven't got any idea what we're dealing with here."

"Relax," Jack replied as calmly as a sprinting person could. "It's probably just a Weevil or something—" he stopped mid-sentence as the park and the alien came into view—"small."

The creature they were faced with was anything but small, a hulking monster that seemed to be made of solid black volcanic rock, with a flame-like tongue and two glowing embers for eyes. It didn't seem to move with any clear sense of purpose, but lashed its tongue out in random directions, scorching grass and trees and leaving playground equipment white-hot. The one small mercy for Jack and Gwen was that the park seemed to have cleared of children and their parents, so there was no immediate danger.

"Have you seen anything like this before, Jack?" Gwen asked.

"No," he admitted, "but I've heard of it."

"Really?"

Jack nodded. "And so have you."

Gwen's brow furrowed as she racked her brain for memories of giant flame-shooting beasts, but she came up with nothing. "Sorry, don't think so."

"Sure you have," Jack insisted. "It's a Balrog."

It took Gwen a moment to recognize the name, but the moment she did, her eyes widened in shock. "You're joking."

"What, you thought Tolkien just made it all up?"

"Alright, fine then. But how are we going to get rid of it, seeing as how I left my wizard's staff at home?"

Jack's expression brightened. "Do you have one? Because that would really be—"

"Jack, please," Gwen interrupted impatiently.

"Kidding," he assured her.

"Well, how are you planning on dealing with this, then?" Gwen demanded, her tone balancing the fine line between frustration and terror.

"Easy," he replied, calm as ever. "Just add water."

There was a maintenance shed on the far side of the park, with a garden hose hanging in a coil on the side. Jack didn't even have to tell Gwen the plan, he simply looked at the shed, then at her, then at the Balrog, and she knew exactly what to do.

Jack recklessly rushed out toward the creature, which was in the process of melting down a merry-go-round, and whistled to get its attention. "Hey baby," he shouted once it turned to look for the source of the high-pitched noise, "are you doing anything later tonight? Because you are smokin' hot."

He fired his pistol at the Balrog's chest. Not surprisingly, it inflicted no damage, but it did produce the desired effect of making the beast extremely angry. The ground shook as the creature lumbered toward Jack, flames lapping at his coattails as he ran toward the shed and toward Gwen, who had been surreptitiously making her way over to the hose all along.

"Let 'er rip!" Jack shouted to her as soon as the creature came within range of the hose's spray nozzle. Gwen squeezed the handle and a moment later… nothing.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, squeezing the handle frantically as the Balrog remained hot on Jack's tail.

"Turn on the water!" he shouted frantically, diving between the creature's legs to avoid its flaming tongue.

"Right. Sorry!" Gwen found the valve where it protruded from the shed and hurriedly opened it, then retrained the nozzle on the Balrog and squeezed the handle again.

This time, a powerful stream of water emerged and hit the creature with full force. At first the water vaporized instantly when it hit the scorching hot beast, surrounding it with a large cloud of steam, but soon the Balrog began to weaken and at last it fell forward, hitting the ground with an earth-shaking thud.

"Is that it, then?" Gwen asked, ceasing fire.

"Yep. Just a pile of rubble," Jack said. "I guess you could say he's all washed up."

Gwen let out a short laugh at the bad joke as the pair assessed the results of their efforts, which really did amount to little more than a rather large pile of black stones next to the maintenance shed.

"Not a bad spot for a rock garden," Jack decided. He turned to leave, and Gwen followed suit. "Now, let's go home."

* * *

Author's Note: So hopefully this gave you guys a little more to chew on... If you liked it, let me know. If you didn't, let me know. If you were ambivalent about it, well, don't let me know, and then I'll stop writing it. Thanks!


	5. Decisions

"What are you going to do now, Jack?" Gwen asked as they casually strolled back to her house.

"Well," Jack paused briefly," I thought I'd get cleaned up, maybe go grab a bite to eat and see where things go from there."

"Honestly, can't you ever be serious?" Gwen replied in frustration.

"Sure I can," he insisted. "It's just easier to mask my emotions with humor."

"That might be the first honest thing you've said all day," she observed.

There was a moment of silence as she waited for a response from Jack. When it became clear that none was forthcoming she continued, switching to a safer topic.

"Sorry I was a bit slow on the uptake back there. Things have been pretty quiet since you left. It's almost like you bring the aliens with you," she joked.

Jack thought for a moment. "Interesting theory," he replied seriously. "The aliens come through the rift. I have rift energy inside me. I suppose it's only logical that they would be attracted to me. I'll have to look into it once we get the Hub up and running again."

"Mm-hmm," Gwen said, suddenly on edge because of a single word in Jack's last sentence, "and when you say 'we,' you mean yourself and the new team you've recruited, right? Because there is no way in hell I'm going back to work for bloody Torchwood."

"Gwen, come on," he pleaded. "Haven't you missed the excitement? The adventure? You can't tell me that wasn't fun," he added, gesturing back toward the park where they had just laid the Balrog to rest.

The conversation had quickly become too intense to continue while walking, so the pair simply stopped and stood in the middle of the road.

"The answer is no, alright? No," Gwen said firmly, looking Jack dead in the eye.

"Please, Gwen," he begged. "You're the only one I've got left."

"Exactly!" Gwen said, becoming agitated and frustrated with Jack's refusal to accept her decision. "And why is that, Jack? It's because the rest of them are dead! Torchwood gets people killed. I didn't know that when I signed on—or maybe I knew, but didn't care—but I know now, and I bloody well care. I have a wonderful husband, and a gorgeous daughter, and a good job, and a comfortable home, and I'm not going to risk all that to run off with you and chase aliens."

Gwen stopped to compose herself and make sure she knew what she wanted to say next. "Not without talking to Rhys first, anyway."

Jack broke into a smile, hugging her tightly. "That's my girl!"

* * *

"So?" Rhys prompted as Gwen and Jack entered the house.

"So what?" Gwen playfully replied, feigning ignorance.

"Did you get the alien?" Rhys elaborated in frustration.

"Oh, that! Yeah, Jack took care of it."

"Actually, Gwen took care of it," Jack corrected modestly. "I helped," he couldn't resist adding.

"Well, that's brilliant!" Rhys said with genuine enthusiasm. "You two make a great team, don't you?"

Gwen and Jack simply smiled, while Rhys' face took on a look of dismay as he realized the full implications of what he had just said.

"Shit," he cursed. "You're going back to Torchwood, aren't you?"

* * *

Jack tossed and turned restlessly, wishing he hadn't given in to Gwen and Rhys'—mostly Gwen's—insistence that he stay at their house indefinitely. The couch that had been perfectly adequate, in his inebriated state, to pass out on the previous night now seemed intolerably hard and lumpy. The temperature fluctuated between sweltering hot and icy cold. And after weeks of being lulled to sleep by the rattling hum of his spaceship's engine, the room seemed oppressively quiet.

The thought of simply getting up and leaving had occurred to him, but the fact of the matter was that he simply lacked the will to do it. With no pressing need for sleep and little else to occupy his mind, Jack's thoughts inevitably drifted to a familiar place.

_It's too late, Jack…_

_You won't remember me…_

_I love you…_

"You never said it back, you know."

The sound of that voice, not as a distant echo from Jack's memory but coming from somewhere incredibly close, made him bolt upright. Sitting on the end of the couch, wearing an impeccably tailored suit and a sad little smile, was Ianto.

Jack didn't move. He hardly dared to blink for fear that the vision would disappear.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say, even though his roiling emotions were causing his throat to tighten.

Ianto moved closer and reached out his hand, pale in the moonlight that shone through the window, to touch Jack's cheek. Jack closed his eyes at the gentle caress. When he opened them, Ianto was still there.

"I do love you," Jack said forcefully, determined not to cry despite the joy and relief and confusion and pain he was feeling. But Ianto swiftly pulled Jack's face to his and kissed him fiercely, and then the only thing Jack felt was bliss.

* * *

A/N: Thank you very much for the reviews/alerts! They're what keep me going, after all... _Merci beaucoup, mes amis!_ And you know you want to write a review now. Plzthx. Love you! _Je t'aime! _Kbye!

PS-Please disregard this author's note. (Except for the part about how you should review.) It's 2 AM where I am. So yeah.


	6. Compromise

The first thing Jack saw when he woke up the next morning was Rhys, trudging sleepily past him to the kitchen and wearing nothing but socks.

"Morning, Rhys," Jack greeted him enthusiastically.

"Shit, I forgot you were still here," was Rhys' mortified reply. He scurried behind the kitchen counter to conceal his indecency and then shouted to his wife for assistance. "Gwen! Could you bring my robe out here, please?"

Gwen emerged a moment later wearing an oversized t-shirt and carrying Rhys' robe, obviously having just woken up herself.

"What do you want this for?" she asked with a yawn. But when she saw the horrified expression on her husband's face and the bemused one on Jack's, she understood the situation perfectly without any further explanation.

"It's not funny, Gwen!" Rhys admonished her when she started to laugh.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Jack chimed in. "At least now all of us have seen each other naked."

This comment at least had the effect of distracting Rhys from his own embarrassment by drawing his attention to a far more serious issue. "When did you see Gwen naked?" he demanded.

Gwen stopped laughing but held her tongue, reluctant to start a discussion about the workplace appropriateness—or lack thereof—of naked hide-and-seek.

"He hasn't," she assured Rhys as she brought him the robe, which he hastily donned. "Right, Jack?" Gwen added, shooting him a look that dared him to contradict her.

"Right," he quickly agreed. "But really, it's not a big deal," he insisted. "On some planets, that's how they say hello."

"Not on this planet, mate," Rhys replied hotly before storming back to the bedroom.

"Don't mind him," Gwen said nonchalantly. "He's always a bit testy in the morning."

"Only in the morning?" Jack replied wryly.

"Oh, be nice," she scolded him. "Rhys has been very accommodating these past couple of days, you know."

"Yeah, well, he's not the one sleeping on the couch."

"Did you sleep okay?" Gwen asked, preparing to brew a pot of coffee. "I thought I heard…noises."

The question nagged at something in Jack's brain, but for some reason he had no clear memory of the night before, only a series of vague déjà-vu-like images that made no real sense: an impossible presence, a pair of piercing blue eyes reflecting the moonlight, a stopwatch, a suit jacket and tie strewn on the floor… Evidence under Jack's sheets indicated that something had definitely happened, but when he tried to fix the exact series of events in his mind, they simply slipped away.

"I slept fine," he told Gwen in what he hoped was a convincing tone. "Just a dream, I guess."

"Coffee?" she offered, bringing him a mug and sitting on the couch beside him.

"Thanks," he said gratefully before taking a sip. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" he added brightly, expertly changing the subject.

"Well, I've got to go to work."

"But I thought you worked for me now," Jack replied in confusion.

"I do," Gwen insisted. "But Rhys and I were talking last night, and we decided it would be better if I kept my day job until Torchwood is up and running properly again."

"What?" Jack said angrily. "How are we supposed to get Torchwood up and running if you're sitting behind a desk shuffling papers?"

"The police need me," she fired back, "and I need the money. I've got a child to support, and a house payment. Not to mention this bloody freeloader who just started crashing on my couch."

Gwen knew Jack was a sucker for a cheesy joke, and sure enough he cracked a smile as soon as she said it, implicitly conceding the point.

"Right, well, I'd better go get ready," she added, swiftly standing and heading for the bathroom. "By the way, I was just wondering, well, usually we leave Tosh with a sitter, but it's not cheap and since you're here…" Gwen trailed off, looking at Jack expectantly.

"Oh, no no no," he repeated firmly. "I'm not a nanny."

* * *

Jack spent the rest of the morning following Gwen and Rhys around and listing reasons why he was not fit to look after anyone's children. Unfortunately they had adopted the foolproof strategy of going about their routines as usual and simply pretending not to hear him. Finally as the couple prepared to leave, Rhys picked up Tosh and unceremoniously dumped her in Jack's arms.

"Have fun with Uncle Jack," Gwen said, kissing her daughter on the forehead before breezing out the door.

"Don't let her watch too much television, and don't give her away to any aliens," Rhys instructed Jack. Then he was gone as well, leaving Jack to contemplate the fact that for him, saving the world seemed a much less daunting task than taking care of a 3-year-old.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews/alerts/favorites/etc! And don't worry, this isn't going to turn into The Babysitting Adventures of Captain Jack Harkness. (Although that might make an amusing story... Takers?) I just try to alternate between lighter moments and more serious ones. Still to come: more characters to be introduced, and (eventually) a plot. Review, please!


	7. Reflection

"I'm home!" Gwen announced, bursting through the front door. She expected to find Tosh there to greet her eagerly, but neither she nor Jack was anywhere in sight.

"Hello?" she tried a little louder, making her way to the interior of the house and trying not to imagine the dozens of horrifying situations Jack could have gotten her daughter into during the course of an entire day.

"There you are," Gwen said with relief upon finding Tosh and Jack sitting quite contentedly on the floor of Tosh's room, serving tea to some of her favorite stuffed animals.

"Hi Mummy," Tosh greeted her without turning around, intent on making sure her guests had enough imaginary tea in their toy plastic cups.

"Did you have fun with Uncle Jack?" Gwen asked, seating herself on the floor as well.

"Yes," Tosh responded enthusiastically.

"Really?" Gwen said, giving Jack a look of pleasant surprise. "What did you do?"

Tosh hesitated and looked to Jack for approval to continue.

"Go on," he encouraged her.

"You tell her," Tosh said, suddenly shy.

"No, you," Jack insisted.

"No, you," Tosh stubbornly repeated.

"No-"

"Would someone please just tell me?" Gwen interrupted, attempting to mask her impatience with a smile.

"We caught an alien!" Tosh blurted out.

"What?" Gwen exclaimed in horror.

"Calm down," Jack said, "it was only a weevil."

"Only a weevil!" Gwen angrily repeated. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything different from Captain Jack Harkness. Honestly, I leave you alone with my daughter—my 3-year-old daughter—for one day, and you're off hunting down aliens. I can't even-"

Gwen stopped short as Jack and Tosh collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Gotcha," Jack said with a grin, as Tosh returned her attention to her tea-serving duties.

"Would you like some more tea, Mummy?"

* * *

Jack walked the streets of Cardiff, grateful for the protection his greatcoat provided against the cold wind and for the chance to finally be alone with his thoughts. He made his way toward the harbor, as he would have done even if the Torchwood software he had downloaded onto Gwen's home computer hadn't revealed signs of rift activity at the site of the former Hub.

The building itself was gone, of course, filled in after the explosion and paved over so that it might as well never have existed, just another innocuous section of sidewalk in the vast concrete jungle of the city.

It seemed ridiculous to Jack to get upset about the loss of the Hub when the human costs of his last adventure had been so great, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow when Gwen confirmed what he had already assumed: the Hub was gone for good, beyond any hope of restoration.

One of the many things Jack had learned from his experiences at Torchwood was that places can have memory too, sometimes better memory than people. But now that the Hub was lost, there would be no ghosts of former team members haunting the halls, no echoes of Owen or Tosh or Ianto to keep him company during the endlessly long and lonely nights.

"In my experience, ghosts don't make very good company, sir."

Jack didn't have to turn to know who was suddenly and inexplicably standing beside him, but he did anyway, just to verify with his eyes what his brain was insisting was there.

"What are you doing here, Ianto?" Jack demanded, his tone deadly serious.

"Keeping you company," Ianto replied with a playful half-smile calculated to forestall Jack's questions.

The look made Jack want to grab Ianto and pull him into his arms immediately, but the crisp night air allowed him to resist the urge and keep his focus for a moment longer.

"But you're dead," he insisted, not without a degree of uncertainty.

His memories of that day were powerful, but the evidence his senses were presenting him with was powerful too: the lilting sound of Ianto's voice, the eternal mischievous twinkle in his impossibly blue eyes, the ice crystals that formed every time his warm breath hit the cold air.

And now his hands gripping Jack's shoulders forcefully as Ianto became the one taking the initiative to pull Jack closer.

"Do I seem dead to you?" he asked, his smile gone, his face only inches from Jack's, his gaze piercing to the core of Jack's soul.

Ianto didn't wait for Jack to respond, but kissed him passionately so that Jack could feel the cold tip of Ianto's nose pressed against his eternally warm cheeks.

It was a bright flash of light that made Jack break off the kiss and look for the source of the illumination. When the light faded, he felt a sickening sense of horror as he recognized the figure that had materialized out of thin air He was on the verge of telling Ianto to run, but Ianto, it seemed, had already disappeared.

"You can't be here," Jack said to the man walking leisurely toward him. "It's impossible."

"But here I am," the man replied cheerfully.

"Leave now," Jack tried a different tack, drawing his pistol and speaking in his most threatening tone, "or I'll kill you."

"Come on, Jack, don't you have enough blood on your hands already?"

Jack reluctantly lowered his gun. As much as he hated to admit it, Captain John Hart was right.

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A/N: Sorry for the long delay! Thanks to everyone for your reviews and everything; they're very encouraging. Concerning the ending of this chapter: I know Captain Hart isn't the most popular guy. But since everyone on Torchwood keeps getting killed off, I'm kind of scraping the bottom of the canon barrel, and I'd much rather him than PC Andy. Please share your thoughts in a review!


	8. Standoff

"Give me one reason why I should let you live," Jack demanded, still on his guard despite lowering his weapon. If there was one thing he could trust when it came to John Hart, it was that his former partner could not be trusted.

"I already did," John pointed out. "With all those people you've gotten killed, I wouldn't think you'd be too eager to add to your tally."

Jack wasn't in the mood for stall tactics, so he decided it was time to get to the point.

"Tell me why you're here, now," he said, cocking his pistol and aiming it directly between John's eyes, "or I'll blow your head off."

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened last time, I really am," John said earnestly. "That's why I came, to apologize for-"

"Nice try," Jack interrupted, not buying the remorseful act for a second.

"Alright, I heard about what happened with the aliens, and Eye Candy getting offed and all, and I thought I might be able to console you or-"

"Bullshit."

"Because I love you?" John tried, looking at Jack hopefully.

"John, if you don't give me a straight answer by the time I count to three, I swear I'll put a bullet in your brain. One… two… th-"

"Fine," John said hastily. "I was bored. Alright? I was fucking bored."

Jack relaxed slightly and lowered his gun, convinced that John was telling the truth, if not giving him the whole story.

"So, once you convinced me not to shoot you on sight, what was the plan?"

"Well, I thought I'd seduce you with my rakish good looks," John drawled, walking slowly toward Jack, "then we could go back to your place and have a drink," he paused, stopping only inches away from Jack's face. "Or two."

"Just one problem," Jack replied, pushing him back to a more comfortable distance as a movement behind John caught his eye. "Weevil."

John frowned in confusion. "I can't come to your place because you've got a weevil there? Shouldn't those things be in a cell or something?"

"No, weevil!" Jack repeated, pointing to the alien as it scampered into an alley. The two men rushed off in pursuit and discovered that the weevil had not chosen its escape route wisely and was trapped at a dead end, pounding at the brick wall and howling mournfully.

"Got it," John said, swiftly drawing his own gun.

"Wait!" Jack tried to say, but John was already emptying six rounds into the weevil, which fell dead to the ground.

"Damn it, John, we don't kill them. We capture them."

"Oops," John said with a shrug, holstering his weapon.

"Oops?" Jack repeated incredulously. John's blatant lack of concern for regulations, while anticipated and admittedly sexy, could also be frustrating.

"It's not like you've got the facilities for a weevil holding cell, is it?" John observed.

Unwilling to admit that John had a point, Jack let the subject drop and turned to more practical matters. "Here, help me get this body into the dumpster."

"You're just going to dump it?" John asked. "Won't the police-"

"They know when to keep their noses out of other people's business," Jack assured him. "And if there happens to be an investigation, Gwen will take care of it. From what I've heard, she's gotten pretty good at making sure these, uh, unique cases get lost in the paperwork shuffle."

"Oh, don't tell me you're still hanging around with her," John said in dismay. "That uptight, self-righteous bitch-"

"Is letting me stay at her house," Jack cut in. "And unless you want to be sleeping in a cardboard box tonight, you'd better hope she lets you stay too."

"Right," John said slowly as he digested the bit of information. "She's not still mad at me for almost killing her, is she?"

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A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus, and the short chapter. More to come very soon. Thanks for the reviews, and pleeeease keep posting them!

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	9. Negotiations

As Jack crept into Gwen's bedroom at 3 o'clock in the morning, he reflected on the fact that although he had indulged the occasional fantasy about this very scenario, it had always taken place under slightly different circumstances. For one thing, in his fantasies Gwen was usually—but not necessarily—alone. More importantly, his goal now was not simply to romance her, but to convince her to welcome a man who had tried to kill her—more than once, even—into her home with open arms.

Jack had to admit that he wasn't even sure he would agree to it if he were in her position, but considering the mischief John would undoubtedly cause if left to his own devices, he knew he had to try.

The scene Jack found in the bedroom was basically as he had anticipated: Gwen looking lovely and peaceful as she slept, even while wearing an oversize t-shirt, with Rhys naked and snoring beside her. Jack walked slowly toward the bed, not wanting to startle either of them or wake Tosh, who was sleeping soundly in the room next door.

"Psst, Gwen!" he whispered.

Gwen rolled over with a yawn and a stretch. "What is it, Rhys?" she mumbled, still half-asleep.

"It's Jack," he corrected her.

"Jack?" she repeated groggily. Then, suddenly fully conscious, she continued in a harsh whisper. "Jack! What are you doing here?"

"Who's there?" slurred Rhys, roused by the sound of Gwen's voice. Spotting Jack, he let out an exasperated sigh. "I told you this would happen eventually if we let him stay here," he said to Gwen.

"Look, sorry, but I have a favor to ask," Jack explained. "I know the chance that you'll agree is extremely small, but I have to ask-"

"The answer is no, Jack," Gwen interrupted him. "Not in a million years. Rhys and I are very much in love, and there's just no room in our relationship—or our bedroom—for anyone else."

"Okay," Jack said slowly," I'm pretty sure John just needs a place to stay, though."

"Wait, who?" Gwen asked in confusion.

"Captain John Hart. He was the source of the rift activity. Well, him and this weevil. But he's dead now. The weevil, not John. Otherwise he wouldn't need a place to stay. What were you talking about?" Jack wondered with a devilish grin.

Gwen ignored the question, both to save herself the embarrassment of answering it and to focus on the more pressing matter. "You mean John Hart is here? Now?"

"Yup," Jack confirmed. "He's waiting outside to see if you'll invite him in."

"You mean you left the notoriously untrustworthy, criminally minded man who tried to kill our entire team unattended?" Gwen exclaimed. "He's probably ransacking the house and kidnapping Tosh right now."

"I knew we never should have given you a key," Rhys chimed in, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Everything's fine," Jack assured them. "John's a changed man, really."

The statement, which sounded hollow even to Jack's ears, did nothing to assuage Gwen's fears. She quickly donned a robe and went to search the rest of the house. Rhys did the same, grabbing a golf club for good measure. Jack waited a moment, hoping they would find nothing and return to discuss the matter in a calmer manner, but a sudden commotion from the living room made him rush to see what was the matter.

Sure enough, there was John, not ransacking or kidnapping as Gwen had imagined, but simply sitting leisurely on the sofa, feet propped up on the coffee table—boots and all—enjoying a beer from the Williams' fridge.

"Nice place," he observed. "Cozy. Quaint. A bit small for my taste, but it does have a certain…charm."

"Thanks," Gwen said tersely. "Now get out."

"Wait," Jack said, gesturing to Gwen and Rhys to move closer to him so they could discuss without John overhearing. "If we want to start Torchwood again, we're going to need help," he explained in a low voice. "He could be useful."

"Or he could murder us all in our sleep," Gwen pointed out.

"Exactly," Jack agreed, "which is why we should keep him close."

"To keep an eye on him," Rhys supplied.

"Don't tell me you're alright with this," Gwen said, looking at Rhys in shock.

Rhys hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. "Yeah, I'm with Jack," he confirmed. "Keep your enemies closer and all that, right? Besides," he added, sizing up John, "he doesn't look that dangerous?"

John, who had abandoned his beer for stronger stuff, passed out and fell sideways on the sofa as if on cue, a bottle of scotch still in his hand.

Jack looked at Gwen expectantly, waiting for her answer.

"Fine," she relented. "But he's sleeping on the floor."

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews, etc. I really appreciate your feedback. So keep doing it. And if you haven't been, start doing it. You know, if you want. To come: John (obviously) causes problems. Ianto's secret (eventually) is revealed. The plot (slowly) unwinds.

On a (mostly) unrelated note, I'm currently watching "Firefly." (I know, a little late to the party.) Once I finish, expect crossover fics. There will be lots of suspenders and/or braces, depending on where you're from.


	10. Questions

Jack, never much of a sleeper, found it even harder to reach dreamland now that a bona fide criminal had taken up residence in the house. Presently John was unconscious on the floor where Gwen and Jack had unceremoniously dumped him after removing him from the couch, a blanket thrown across his comatose body like an afterthought, but there was no telling what mischief he might make once he woke up.

Jack feared little for his own safety—although he certainly didn't consider it beyond John's ability to, for example, encase him in a concrete block—but his former partner-turned backstabber-turned teammate's proximity to Gwen and her family was what made him most uneasy. He decided he would have to arrange new lodgings for John and himself as soon as possible.

"Simple way to solve that problem, sir."

Jack wasn't sure how to feel when he realized that, far from being shocked by the sound of Ianto's voice, he had almost been expecting it.

"Is this going to be like a nightly thing, then?" he asked.

Ianto shrugged. "Could be. I just thought I might be able to help."

"Thanks," Jack said unenthusiastically, "but I wouldn't exactly call rebuilding the headquarters for an alien-hunting, Earth-saving organization 'simple.'"

"I didn't mean bringing back the Hub," Ianto clarified. "I meant killing that bastard." He nodded toward John, who was snoring and clutching his scotch bottle like a security blanket.

"That's not happening," John said firmly. "How many times do I-" He stopped as Ianto's mention of John triggered a memory.

"Hang on, where did you go last night?" he demanded. "And how did you get here just now?"

"Doesn't matter?" Ianto said unconcernedly. "Like I said, I just thought I might be able to help."

Jack was unconvinced and had been about to inquire further when Ianto put a comforting hand on his shoulder that silenced all his suspicions. It felt so real, so…right. It sounded trite and clichéd, even to Jack, but there was no other way for him to think of the feeling that nothing in the galaxy could be more perfect than just sitting with Ianto forever.

There was a brief moment when another cliché flitted through Jack's mind, one about things that seemed too good to be true, but all he had to do was look into Ianto's eyes to know that everything was exactly as it should be.

BREAK

The peaceful feeling didn't last, though, and once Ianto left—Jack was still fuzzy on when and how that happened—he found himself struggling to sleep again. When the gray, pre-dawn light began to seep through the window, he finally gave up on getting any rest and began counting down the time until the other members of the household began to stir.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally did. Jack put on a cheerful front, brewing coffee, joking with Gwen, Rhys, and Tosh as they went off to work and daycare, and enduring John's predictable warnings about unpleasant consequences if he had to spend another night on the floor.

"As I recall, you've slept in a lot worse places," Jack pointed out.

"Yeah, but only when I had to," John replied. "And here you are, big comfy couch all to yourself, not even sleeping."

"I-" Jack started to defend himself, but stopped short. "How did you know I wasn't sleeping?"

"Well, you couldn't have been sleeping well, anyway," John amended. "Not with that awful racket you were making. And who's Steven?"

At the mention of the name, Jack felt like someone had punched him in the gut, which threw him off just enough that he told John the truth. "My grandson."

"No shit!" John said excitedly. "You have a grandson?"

"Had," Jack corrected.

"Ah, that explains the 'No, not him!' part you kept repeating," John observed.

Jack remained silent, not in the mood to have his personal anguish made light of.

John, typically, neither noticed nor cared what kind of mood Jack was in. "Cheer up, partner," he encouraged him with a hearty slap on the back. "Considering your track record, I'm sure there are lots more where he came from."

Jack couldn't take anymore. He hastily rose, donned his greatcoat, and made for the door.

"Where are we going?" John asked.

"To find you somewhere else to stay," Jack told him.

"But I like staying with you," John protested.

"Yeah, well I don't. And weren't you just complaining about sleeping on the floor?" Jack assumed John's lack of a comeback constituted his agreement.

"By the way," he added. "I'm not your partner. You work for me now, got it?"

"Yeah," John replied. "But if I can't call you 'partner,' what do I call you? Captain? Boss-man? Supreme and Most-High Ruler?"

Jack thought for a moment. "You can call me 'sir.'"

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A/N: Thanks for adding me to your lists, and especially for reviewing. I really appreciate it! So, you know, please keep doing it. Love you!


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